The Tempest
Trees crash, wind roars,
Hooves pound, rain pours.
A dark shape forms in the night,
Eyes flash, lightening strikes.
Hurtling on with gathering force,
Storm gathers, hooves soar.
Air charges, noise hushes,
Muscles strain, wind rushes.
Electricity crackles, air becomes hot
Passion rises, nerves string taut.
Racing on, black moon high,
Against shrieking wind and raging sky
Unswervable, unstoppable, indestructible might
Explodes in fury – black thunder, white light!
The storm levels out; hard, rugged, lean
A relentless force; a racing machine.
The heart of the storm is challenged by no other
Its eyes are chained lightning, its hooves are black thunder.
Its breath is the wind, its soul is Hell’s fire,
Its dam was a hurricane, a tornado its sire.
It tears through the night surrounded by storm,
Frenzied and furious, the tempest is born.
-- Kim Keown (c)1996
|
